


If You Give A Snake Some Benzedrine...

by Not_You



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Anal Fingering, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blankets, Bottom Snake, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drug Use, Established Relationship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Near Death, Needles, Pet Names, Suicidal Thoughts, amphetamines, because drugs, just the one needle that is full of speed, otacon is a mess, philantrophy era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 13:16:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12984843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_You/pseuds/Not_You
Summary: So in Metal Gear Solid, Snake asks not to be given Benzedrine because it makes him 'too frisky.'  After having to administer some in an emergency, Otacon gets to observe this phenomenon firsthand.





	If You Give A Snake Some Benzedrine...

Otacon is going to kill himself if he loses Snake. Well, maybe not, but the coward's road is abundantly preferable to that terrible dark path of trying to run Philanthropy without his partner, who right now might be dying in the back seat. Otacon can hardly see the road, but his hands are steady on the wheel, and he keeps his eyes on the rain-slick road.

They'd cut Snake up if they got him, maybe use some of the late-dying cells, like the ones in all that gorgeous, lethal skeletal muscle to get Les Infants Terribles started again. Shit, they could go for that hanged man's last ejaculation and do things the old fashioned way, if they felt like shuffling the cards. Otacon isn't going to hand him over by flipping this shitbox onto its roof in the middle of the median. He had fucking told Snake they needed something faster and the tears pour down his cheeks when he hears labored wheezing behind him for the first time in way too long.

"Snake! Come on, man, stay with me!" There's nothing but a gurgling moan, way too quiet. Christ, he's going to die back there before Otacon can do anything about it and he nearly screams when the light in front of him turns red. "Snake!" he snaps, instead, trying not to slam on the brake too hard, "tell me your first memory!"

"...Blue," Snake sighs, and it sounds like a death rattle.

"What was blue? Come on, Snake!" The light burns baleful red and Otacon hates it and he hates this piece of shit van and he hates himself.

"...blanket, I think. Nothin' but shadows and warm." 

It takes him forever to get all the words out, and in each pause, Otacon is sure that he's dead, that if he is he has to take care of the body... and then the light changes, and he can roar across the intersection. They can't risk a hospital, but if he can just get his hands on Snake before it's too late. He's made it through all kinds of horrible shit, he can make it through this. Please almost-certainly-not-there God, let him make it through this.

He tries never to say this out loud, it makes them both edgy, but it feels necessary now: "I love you, David." It comes out choked with tears, and he has to say it again to get it right. "I fucking love you," he adds, and scrubs his eyes with his sleeves, not that it helps much, with so much salt on his glasses.

"...l'v yh," and then silence. Silence all the way home, no matter what Otacon says or how loud.

They're staying in a condemned shack with half the roof gone, and supplies of everything are low. Otacon can't help making a mental inventory of the medical supplies even as he crawls into the back to take Snake's pulse and can't find it, not even the big one in his neck. He's in this van with his partner's corpse, and he's thinking that it's a good thing Snake only has a few abrasions because they're so low on gauze and Snake is fucking dead but he can't get his head around it and the rain is drumming on the roof when there's a twitch under his fingertips. It might be nothing, but he bolts into the shack as fast as he can, running back out with the whole box, even the rolls of gauze he won't really need.

When Snake had heaved himself into the back and growled at Otacon to drive, he had already known about the unidentified chemical agent Snake had been doused in, and he had gotten one important answer to his urgent questions, borne out by Snake's state now; that it was probably "some kinda sedative, meant for charging bull elephants, holy fuck sitting up is hard woah." He's still in the fucking sneaking suit, and it's an eternity of yanking and struggling to just haul it far enough open to drag one of Snake's arms free, the naked skin very pale in the low light.

There isn't much in the kit right now, but there is some black market Benzedrine. He was planning to trade it for some softer form of speed. He needs a little help sometimes, but he's not ready to start shooting up. They do have needles, though, and Otacon takes a deep breath, steadies his hands, and draws up a truly heroic dose.

"David," he says, sliding the needle into one broad, blue vein, "don't you dare die." 

He doesn't get a response and he doesn't expect one, just pushing the plunger home and trusting to Snake's strength. He sits there in the rain with the door hanging open and he doesn't bother to pray. He just watches Snake's face for what seems like forever. Finally he shakes himself and starts packing up the medical kit thinking again about funeral pyres and Snake dissected in a white room and if anyone is going to do weird science shit with Snake's corpse, it should be him, damn it.

He can't actually bring himself to leave Snake's side, so he just puts the medical supplies in the shotgun seat and pulls his gangly legs into the van, shutting the door behind them. He's cold and wet and he doesn't give a shit. He pushes the back seat down to make a flat surface, and lays Snake out. He's still very warm, and after Otacon has him arranged, he checks the pulse in his neck again. He has been dry-eyed this whole time, but when he feels Snake's heartbeat, slow and weak but steady, he starts to cry again. He stretches out next to Snake and takes his wrist in both hands, finding that pulse and clinging to it. Time stops meaning anything, and he just holds on to Snake and listens to the rain.

Snake sits up so suddenly it's terrifying, and he lets out a whoop that nearly deafens Otacon. It isn't a word, just a sound, and one of pure exuberance. He turns to Otacon with an enormous grin, and even though it looks crazed, Otacon has no choice but to smile back, his face glazed with tears.

"Hey, darlin'," he purrs, and gathers Otacon into his lap. His whole body seems to be vibrating, and even as he curls around Otacon he seems restless, but for now he just lets Otacon cling to him and sob. For a long time Otacon barely registers Snake's voice, and when he tunes in again, he hears, "Sshh, shhh, it's okay, babydoll, shhh..."

Otacon hiccups a laugh. "Y-you n-never, never call me that."

"Not 'cause I don't want to," Snake says, "I just thought you'd think it was stupid." He sighs, nuzzling into Otacon's hair and breathing in deeply. "Of course you're my babydoll, sweetheart."

Snake's uncovered hand slides between the buttons of Otacon's jacket and then up under both of his t-shirts in an unerring search for skin. Otacon flinches at the contact, and then leans into it. Snake rumbles happily, and Otacon can feel it in his chest along with his heartbeat and he's so warm and alive that right when Otacon was almost drying up, he starts to cry again. He has a dehydration headache starting, he's lost so much water through his eyes, but the thought of letting go of Snake to get water is still completely intolerable.

"Baby," Snake murmurs, "we should get you cleaned up, you're way more of a mess than me."

Otacon lets out a watery laugh, nodding. "I guess so," he says, his voice raspy. "I just... I can't make myself let go of you. I was so sure you were dead," he says, and starts to choke up yet again. He would slap himself in irritation if it wouldn't mean letting go of Snake.

"Come on," Snake says, shifting toward the door with Otacon in his arms, "I'll carry you."

"You nearly died!"

"Yeah, and now I've shot the fucking moon!" he lets out another whoop as he opens the door, teeth gleaming wolfishly in the dome light. 

Before Otacon can say anything, Snake has shifted him onto his shoulder. It's more comfortable than Otacon would have thought, and he lets out a hysterical little giggle as Snake slides out of the van like they do this every day. He even opens the passenger door and collects the medical kit with his gloved hand. He keeps the other one on Otacon. The arm that he injected, with its little streak of dried blood, holds him onto Snake's shoulder, the hand gripping his ass in a way that feels good even now. He pushes the suit down to feel the living warmth of Snake's back and the vibration when he shivers and growls.

"I'm trying not to be an asshole, darling, but if you keep touching me up like that..."

"You're drugged and I'm probably too wrung out to get it up, Snake."

"So you can finger-fuck me, maybe? You know how much I like that," he says, and Otacon's face goes hot because he does know how much Snake likes that.

"That does sound good, but you are whacked out on Benzedrine right now, buddy, and I feel kinda weird about that."

Snake hauls the door open with one agile foot, and walks into the musty darkness of their current home. "You don't have to, it's not like I'm blacking out or anything. And you know I trust you." 

He lights the lamp and puts the medical kit back where it goes, just leaving Otacon draped over his shoulder like he doesn't weigh anything and Christ help him he might have enough adrenaline left to get off. Snake swings him down onto their derelict mattress and then peels himself out of the sneaking suit. It's too desperate and utilitarian to be striptease, but it's still a gorgeous thing to watch. Naked, Snake pads over to their dwindling supplies and collects a few things. Otacon doesn't see what, he's busy trying to clean his glasses on the edge of his sweat-clammy and rain-damp shirt.

"Hey," Snake says, and sits on the mattress next to him, opening a bottle of water and trading it for Otacon's glasses. 

While Otacon guzzles the water, Snake dries his glasses and then sets them back onto Otacon's face. He's the only person Otacon has ever met who can do that without poking him in the eyes or nose, and that's almost enough to make him cry again.

"There," Snake croons, and opens another water bottle, wetting a washcloth and wiping the tear tracks off of Otacon's face. "Sweetest heart," he murmurs, and covers Otacon's face in kisses, their stubble rasping.

Snake is getting handsy again, but Otacon does need to get out of these wet clothes. He's also not a near-perfect human specimen riding a big hit of speed, and shivers in the cold. Snake wraps him in blankets and then leaps up to make him a cup of coffee. It's instant and tastes like metal, but it's warm, and Otacon is grateful. Snake scurries around doing a few other little upkeep tasks, and Otacon wonders if it's something in his training, the drug, or an inherent quality that lets him just wander around naked like this.

By the time Otacon has finished his coffee, Snake his finished his frenetic puttering, and climbs into the blankets with Otacon, wrapping around him. His skin is cold at first touch, but soon they're warm, the corner of a thin, ragged blanket over their faces. It makes everything a pink blur, and Snake sighs.

"This is what I meant," he said, "when you asked me about my first memory."

"Like this, but blue?"

"Pretty much," he says, "but this is way better." His arms tighten around Otacon, and Otacon sighs, turning his face to kiss Snake's chest. 

Snake is hard and Otacon isn't, but they've discussed that. Snake knows where he is and who he is and Otacon nearly lost him, he wants to touch him all over and he'll do it any way that Snake wants. When he says so Snake moans. His pupils are huge, and when Otacon extends his head and one arm from the nest, the lube is right there, with the water and MREs. Otacon raises an eyebrow and Snake actually blushes. 

"I just really want you inside me, okay?" he says, and Otacon just nods, unable to say anything to that.

They adjust the blankets so Snake can stretch out on his back, hips propped up on wadded fabric. Otacon supposes that this is no time for foreplay and slicks his fingers quickly. Snake is all vibrating stillness, and when Otacon just starts to rub a gentle circle on his hole, he cries out and presses himself into it.

"Ohh... oh fuck please please--" he interrupts himself with another cry as Otacon slides two fingers into him as deep as they can go. "Fuck, that's good..." He writhes, panting and bringing his own hands to his chest, rolling his nipples under callused fingertips as Otacon fucks him slowly, barely pulling out at all. "God, I love your hands..."

"You do?" Otacon breathes. He knows that Snake loves him and that the sex is good, but they don't talk about it much.

"Fuck yeah, I do! They're so _pretty_ , and--" Otacon slides a third finger into him and he moans, rocking his hips on Otacon's hand. He's digging his nails into his chest now. 

Otacon leans in and gets his mouth on one hard nipple, sucking and gently biting as he drives his fingers into Snake faster and faster, making him let out a beautiful, helpless little noise with each breath. Otacon gently twists his hand and presses deeper. Snake squirms and moans, struggling to take more. Otacon has only seen him like this a few times, and he whimpers, covering that broad chest in kisses and bites. He's rougher than usual, desperate to mark up Snake's gloriously alive body, and Snake makes desperate sobbing noises but doesn't tell him to stop.

"More," Snake whimpers, "more, please, I need your cock, sweetheart, I need it so bad..."

"You're lucky you're so hot," Otacon grumbles, and then gasps as Snake grips his cock.

"I'm lucky you're so goddamn huge," Snake breathes, squeezing and stroking Otacon as he does his best not to blush himself to death, struggling to catch his breath. "You get so fucking deep and it's so fucking good, please..."

So much for not being able to get hard. Otacon slathers on what is hopefully enough lube, and then lines up against Snake and presses into him. He pants, each exhale a tiny sound as he takes Otacon deeper and deeper, grabbing at his hips and groaning when he finally bottoms out. He gazes up into Otacon's eyes and Otacon wants to look away. There's too much there. As it is, he leans in, Snake flexing his spine to help, and kisses him. Rough and sloppy, the way Snake likes it when he's getting fucked. 

Snake moans and sucks Otacon's tongue into his mouth, wrapped around him. It always makes Otacon feel small, but in a good way. He sighs and sets up a slow, steady rhythm. Snake whines for faster and then dissolves into moans when Otacon obeys. He's so hot and soft and fragile inside, and Otacon grinds into him relentlessly, just the way Snake likes it.

Otacon waits until he's about to come before he lets anyone touch Snake's cock, laughing at the way Snake curses when he stops him from touching himself. "Hold on, boy," he pants, "not all of us are on speed."

At last, he grips Snake's cock and strokes him in time to his own last frantic thrusts. Snake lets out a howl when he comes, and Otacon bites one collarbone to muffle himself, letting out some rough-edged and desperate sound as he spills himself as deep inside Snake as he can, like it's proof that they're both alive.

Otacon gets weepy again as they catch their breath, and Snake holds him close and strokes his hair and calls him increasingly ridiculous pet names until he starts to laugh. Snake grins, and kisses his cheek.

"There we go," he says. "It's all right, babydoll."

"You're ridiculous," Otacon mutters, but he hugs Snake tightly.

Now that he's so much calmer, Otacon realizes how sticky they are and how long it was since he last ate. He wets a rag and does his best for both of them, Snake purring under his touch. That done, he flings the rag out of the way and reaches for the MREs. They're not as bad as people say, but they're sure not good. The first one he grabs is that horrible fucking chicken fajita, and he sets it aside with a grimace.

"We're gonna have to eat it sometime," Snake says, taking his cigarettes from the other side of the mattress. In a place this unpleasantly well-ventilated and after nearly dying, Otacon supposes he can let him have a post-coital cigarette.

"Better you than me," Otacon says, and finds a pouch of the chili mac, which is bad, but a bad he can handle. 

He prepares it according to directions, with more bottled water, and then huddles back in their blanket nest, kneeling on the mattress to eat out of the pouch. Snake says he's not hungry and that it's probably the drug, but he smears the weird cheese spread onto the cracker and forces himself to eat it.

"Here, this has more nutritional value," Otacon says, and feeds him a bite of chili mac on the tiny plastic spoon, laughing as soon as Snake has swallowed. "It's just so romantic," he says through his laughter when Snake gives him a confused look, "feeding your partner MRE by lamplight."

"Hey," Snake says softly, "I'll take it."

Otacon sighs, and nestles into his arms again. With everything that has happened tonight, he's exhausted, and as soon as he has eaten enough to make his stomach shut up, he lies down, curling himself around Snake's hips as he sits up, apparently not tired at all.

Snake shrugs. "I'll probably be up all night, but I won't leave you alone, okay?"

"Okay," Otacon murmurs, snuggling even closer. "There's all of K-On on my laptop if you get bored," he says, and falls asleep to Snake laughing at him, pressed up against all that warmth and feeling like the luckiest man in the world.


End file.
